OUTSIDE INN: Tradition and Madness
Title: Tradition and Madness
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor and the Master, mention of April and Lucy
Word Count: 567
Rating: G
Summary: Tradition is easy to come by in the Inn. Sanity, not so much.
Notes: Written for cameraneverlies for Christmas, inspired by the Inn snowball fight thread.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, the Master, the Doctor, or the Inn for that matter.
Traditions happened quickly in the Inn. All it took was one person starting something, and before you knew it, there was a tradition. The annual surprise Halloween costumes. The habit of shoving a pamphlet about the Inn at anyone who looked even mildly confused. The at least bi-annual wedding (as often as they happened, they had to be a tradition, though no one ever seemed to acknowledge them as such).
There was one tradition the Doctor was unfamiliar with, though to be fair, he hadn't been around for its inception. Consequently, it took him by surprise when he stepped outside after the first snowfall of winter and was immediately hit in the face with something cold and wet.
As he shook the snow out of his face, he heard a familiar voice over the shouts and yelps of an Inn snowball fight. "Doctor!" A smug, superior voice that never changed, no matter how many years passed.
"Hallo," he said to the Master, who stood in front of him with a self-assured smirk, a snowball in hand. "What's all this, then?"
He waved a hand to the trampled snow of the battlefield, the fantastic snow forts, and the many inhabitants of the Inn waging war with snowballs. Spotting April on top of one of the forts, the Doctor flashed her a smile. She beamed and waved before ducking back into the fort, and the Doctor's attention swung back to the Master.
"Tradition," the Master said firmly. "I rather like tradition."
"Is that why you won't give up on this whole arch-enemies business, then?" There were, after all, many centuries of tradition backing that up.
The Master looked briefly annoyed, and then went on without actually answering the question. "But I guess you wouldn't know, would you? Off destroying our world and all."
The Doctor managed to let that one pass, pointing out simply, "You weren't here either."
"I have an excuse. I was dead at the time!" He hefted his snowball with a triumphant smile the Doctor had seen before, though never while holding something as harmless as a snowball. The Inn's prohibitions against violence had really limited his options. "And now, Doctor, you may resign yourself to inevitable, crushing defeat."
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side. "I could do that. Or..."
The Master paused, lowering the snowball just a little and arching his eyebrows in his 'I'm listening' expression. Grinning, the Doctor went on.
"Or we could work together and show these children what a couple Time Lords can do."
The Master tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at the Doctor. "I don't actually like Time Lords that much."
"Well, neither do I," the Doctor said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but that's entirely beside the point! Look, as soon as we've defeated everyone else, you can stab me in the back - metaphorically speaking, because they're snowballs. What d'you say?"
The Master didn't say anything as he considered, and the Doctor simply waited, watching Lucy take aim with a snow cannon behind the Master's back. And then came the barrage of snowballs which, of course, decided him.
As they launched their attack, the Doctor kindly refrained from commenting on the Master using his laser screwdriver to melt all incoming snowballs. Being entirely insane, he supposed, ought to earn him some perks.
Characters/Pairing: The Doctor and the Master, mention of April and Lucy
Word Count: 567
Rating: G
Summary: Tradition is easy to come by in the Inn. Sanity, not so much.
Notes: Written for cameraneverlies for Christmas, inspired by the Inn snowball fight thread.
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, the Master, the Doctor, or the Inn for that matter.
Traditions happened quickly in the Inn. All it took was one person starting something, and before you knew it, there was a tradition. The annual surprise Halloween costumes. The habit of shoving a pamphlet about the Inn at anyone who looked even mildly confused. The at least bi-annual wedding (as often as they happened, they had to be a tradition, though no one ever seemed to acknowledge them as such).
There was one tradition the Doctor was unfamiliar with, though to be fair, he hadn't been around for its inception. Consequently, it took him by surprise when he stepped outside after the first snowfall of winter and was immediately hit in the face with something cold and wet.
As he shook the snow out of his face, he heard a familiar voice over the shouts and yelps of an Inn snowball fight. "Doctor!" A smug, superior voice that never changed, no matter how many years passed.
"Hallo," he said to the Master, who stood in front of him with a self-assured smirk, a snowball in hand. "What's all this, then?"
He waved a hand to the trampled snow of the battlefield, the fantastic snow forts, and the many inhabitants of the Inn waging war with snowballs. Spotting April on top of one of the forts, the Doctor flashed her a smile. She beamed and waved before ducking back into the fort, and the Doctor's attention swung back to the Master.
"Tradition," the Master said firmly. "I rather like tradition."
"Is that why you won't give up on this whole arch-enemies business, then?" There were, after all, many centuries of tradition backing that up.
The Master looked briefly annoyed, and then went on without actually answering the question. "But I guess you wouldn't know, would you? Off destroying our world and all."
The Doctor managed to let that one pass, pointing out simply, "You weren't here either."
"I have an excuse. I was dead at the time!" He hefted his snowball with a triumphant smile the Doctor had seen before, though never while holding something as harmless as a snowball. The Inn's prohibitions against violence had really limited his options. "And now, Doctor, you may resign yourself to inevitable, crushing defeat."
The Doctor shoved his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side. "I could do that. Or..."
The Master paused, lowering the snowball just a little and arching his eyebrows in his 'I'm listening' expression. Grinning, the Doctor went on.
"Or we could work together and show these children what a couple Time Lords can do."
The Master tilted his chin up, looking down his nose at the Doctor. "I don't actually like Time Lords that much."
"Well, neither do I," the Doctor said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "but that's entirely beside the point! Look, as soon as we've defeated everyone else, you can stab me in the back - metaphorically speaking, because they're snowballs. What d'you say?"
The Master didn't say anything as he considered, and the Doctor simply waited, watching Lucy take aim with a snow cannon behind the Master's back. And then came the barrage of snowballs which, of course, decided him.
As they launched their attack, the Doctor kindly refrained from commenting on the Master using his laser screwdriver to melt all incoming snowballs. Being entirely insane, he supposed, ought to earn him some perks.